


The Expert

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Coulson is a dork, F/M, POV Phil Coulson, Romance, Superheroes, quake - Freeform, skoulsonfest2k16redux
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-26 04:47:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7560931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Meet Phil Coulson, expert on all things Inhuman.</p><p>Written for the Skoulson RomFest 2k16 Redux - prompt: AU</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“They’re as human as we are, just… with a little _something extra_.”

As he sees the anchors react to those words he realizes morning tv probably isn’t the best venue to make campaign for Inhuman rights.

“That’s quite a proposition,” the woman says, laughing nervously.

The audience laughs too and he guesses the idea that Inhumans are regular people just trying to survive and be happy like anyone else might sound preposterous in the current climate. But that’s exactly why he was so eager to make the tv rounds - that and his boss at the Gazette said it would be good publicity for his column.

“Catching powered is more like a calling than a day job for you, isn’t it, Mr Coulson?” the male host says and Phil is beyond trying to correct him about his title again. “It’s even a family heirloom.”

“Yes, my f- my father was a history professor with an special interest in the early story of superheroes. Is that- is that my camera?”

He probably shouldn’t ask that out loud. He swears he’s cooler than this. The question about his father threw him off.

“Steve Rogers, the Howling Commandos, that sort of thing?”

He nods. “Yes, that sort of thing.”

“And you have consulted with the ATCU on powered individuals and alien threats for years. You are the foremost expert on Inhumans in the country.”

“That’s right.”

“But sources close to this channel tell us you won’t help them catch Quake. Why is it that?”

“Because they want to lock her up, and I’d rather not help out with that. She should keep doing what she’s doing.”

This declaration is met with uncomfortable forced smiles. He’s used to that.

“There are certainly some people out there who believe Quake is a hero.”

“Well, she is,” Phil states, casually.

“Some people certainly think so,” the woman repeats. 

“They're even willing to protect this criminal. That town in Northern California which impeded the a CIA investigation? That nurse in Hell’s Kitchen who got fired for protecting Quake’s identity?

“Maybe it has to do with the fact that she is willing to protect people. Humans or Inhumans.”

Oh yeah morning tv was a good idea. He didn’t mean to get aggressive - that’s what his column on powered people and the “Inhuman problem” (the euphemism makes his stomach twist every time) is for. He wanted to give a good impression. He even wore a tie. He’s actually pulling a bit at the tie right now, the heat from the studio lights finally getting to him. He feels a bit dizzy, uncomfortable, the collar of his shirt scratches. 

“We all know about your theories on Quake,” the anchor says in a mocking tone.

“Why do you say _theories_ like that?” he asks, it sounded like there were invisible airquotes around the word. They ignore him.

“Yes, about Quake being uneducated and a hacker,” the woman newscaster says, like the idea is laughable.

“She operates on her own” Phil tries to explain. “And the operations she pulls, they require a lot of technological knowledge. Yes, I think we are dealing with a former hacker.”

“Why would anyone with earthquake powers need to know about… computers?”

“That’s an oversimplification of what her powers actually-”

“Why hack a door? She can just _quake_ it!”

The presenters seem very happy with that expression, letting out a loud chuckle.

“She never does more damage than necessary,” Phil says, trying to speak louder this time.

“What about that bank in-?”

“That bank was notorious for laundering money for anti-Inhuman hate groups,” Phil interrupts, breathless.

The two anchors look at each other, alarmed, eyes wide.

“Anti-Inhuman _hate groups_.? What an idea!”

He pulls out the microphone clipped to his shirt and stands up to leave.

Storming out of a talk show is going to do wonder for his column.


	2. Chapter 2

His little stunt on national television makes him a pariah, understandably. His boss at the newspaper is not happy either and even has threatened Phil with cutting his column down (and fill the space with what? actual news? he knows the man is bludding). At least the ATCU stops calling for the first time in ever, so it’s not all bad. And he manages to keep his old contacts, the ones from when he used to be a profiler-for-hire for the government on all things weird and alien. Which is how he becomes aware of a new plot to take Quake down. One that might actually work.

The problem is he has no idea how to warn her.

Until he remembers the only person who has come into personal contact with Quake that he knows of. Someone who, luckily, happens to share Phil’s… special interests.

“Whatever it is, the answer is no,” Claire tells him as he follows her through the emergency room.

Her new hospital seems as chaotic as the old one. Claire looks tired, as always, and fierce in a way it reminds Phil of her mother, who was a nurse in a big city hospital as well, underpaid and overworked. He’d better not tell Claire that, though, that she reminds him of his mom, or she’d probably never speak to him again.

“I thought this was your lunch hour,” he says, staring as she replenishes one of the first aid trays. He hadn’t meant to disturb her if she is working.

“You would think so, uh?”

“I brought you coffee,” he says, in a tempting tone. “Actual real coffee.”

She stops in her tracks, grabbing the paper cup immediately. She smells the scent of it like she hasn’t tasted real coffee in months. For all Phil knows, it might be true.

“Bribery. It must be serious.”

“I need to get in touch with Quake,” he says.

Claire laughs. “That’s happening.”

“This is not for my book on Inhumans,” Phil assures her. “She’s in danger.”

“She’s always in danger. And what makes you think I know how to contact her?”

He gives her a skeptical look. Everybody knows Claire is a direct landline to superheroes in this city. The Devil of Hell’s Kitchen, Power Man. How the ATCU made sure she lost her job over helping Quake. 

“Come on, Claire. She needs to have a contact in the city. I’m a profiler, you’re the best candidate.”

“Look, Phil, your creepy obsession with superheroes is very cute but I don’t want to get fired from this job _too_.”

He touches her wrist gently. He knows she thinks he’s a goof, but she has to understand he means it this time.

“I’m not joking, this is not one of my conspiracy theories. She’s in danger.”

Claire looks around, as if someone might be eavesdropping on them. She takes him by the arm, “Come here” and drags him to the locker room.

“You nemesis at the ATCU, General Talbot,” she starts and Phil nods. “A couple of weeks ago he had my house searched.”

“ _What?_ ”

“Apparently you’re not the only one who profiled me,” the nurse says, obviously distressed.

Phil knew this sort of thing was coming. The ATCU doesn’t even need search warrant anymore, if they suspect a connection - it’s the Inhuman exception clause, brought on by the Sokovia Accords. 

“This is exactly what I’ve been warning people about,” he says.

Claire gives him an impatient look. “Spare _me_ the civil liberties speech.”

Phil’s face reddens. “Sorry. Wait, what were they trying to find in your house?”

Her expression darkens as she opens one of the lockers and hands Phil a manila folder.

“What is this?”

“The only medical record for Quake,” Claire replies. “Before she was Quake. When she still couldn’t get a handle on her powers.”

Phil reads the file, horrified at the pictures. Multiple fractures on fingers and arms. A nurse found her passed out from the pain.

“She was directing her powers inwards, to stop hurting others,” Claire explains. “I stole the file two years ago.”

This new information only strengthens Phil’s resolve.

“Please,” he says. “Someone like her… she’s too important. If I can help her, I have to try.”

Claire rolls her eyes. “Okay, I’ll give you the number. But you’re sure this has nothing to do with your dorky obsession with superheroes?”

Phil smiles, trying to look trustworthy.

It’s not _entirely_ about his lifelong fascination (not obsession) with the superpowered and what they choose to do with their gifts.


	3. Chapter 3

The instructions were to buy a burner phone and call the number Claire gave him. She didn’t promise Quake would reply but if she did he had twenty minutes to show up at the specified location.

Phil follows the indications on Quake’s text message blindly, finding himself in a strange part of town. And finally he arrives at the meeting point.

“A rooftop, really?” he says, talking to himself. “That’s original.”

“You’re the expert, you tell me,” a voice says from behind.

He turns around.

Even though he’s spent almost a year compiling every image available (and classified) of Quake he is not quite prepared for how different she looks from the security feed pictures. Younger, for one. Softer, even with the heavy eyeliner and the leather jacket. Much more beautiful, too. Thought that’s irrelevant (and inappropriate), he guesses.

She walks towards him and Phil suddenly feels a bit self-aware, conscious of being in a very powerful presence. He’s studied her powers and he is sure she could tear continents apart if she wanted. It’s humbling, finally meeting her face to face. She is looking at him like she’s the one studying him.

“I don’t know about expert,” he says, swallowing.

“Come on, I’ve read your column,” she says.

“Yeah?”

He readjusts his glasses nervously, flattered. 

“You look different than on tv,” the young woman says.

“Different good or d-?”

“You said you have a message for me?” she asks, cutting their chat short. She looks around, as if someone might be chasing her. Well, a lot of people are chasing her, she probably shouldn’t linger, as much as Phil would love to spend hours with her, ask a million questions.

“Ye-yes,” he stutters. Now it feels a bit ridiculous, to be here trying to warn a superhero of some danger. But he has to try. “I have a contact at the CIA. She informed me of a joint operation with the ATCU to capture you. They are going to use the fake lead of a shipment of anti-alien weapons to bait you.”

“How do I know your little message isn’t meant to be the bait?” she asks.

It makes sense that she is distrustful but Phil confesses it stings a bit.

“Would Claire have given me your number if I was an enemy?”

Quake shakes her head, thoughtful, biting her bottom lip a bit. “No, she wouldn’t.”

He takes a couple of steps closer, as if he needs more privacy. Not that anyone is going to disturb them in a rooftop on an empty building in Queens but… Maybe if he gets close enough he could feel it, Quake’s power. Instead he is just face to face with a young woman, remarkable, yes, but looking as human as anyone Phil has ever met.

“The ATCU knows you’ve been monitoring their comms, they are going to leak a tip about a warehouse in New Jersey to draw you out,” he tells her.

She takes a moment to think about it. She shrugs, a hint of bravado in her body language.

“You know I’ll have to check it out anyway, right?”

Phil smirks. “What? You don’t trust me?”

“Of course I trust you, you’ve been campaigning for me since day one,” she tells him, flirting back. Phil swears he didn’t come here to flirt. This is Quake, it’s absurd to think she might even be curious enough to... More seriously now, she goes on. “But even with your tip-off, I can’t ignore the possibility that those weapons might be real.”

“And you shouldn’t,” he tells her. “I just thought I’d give you the edge. So you can be careful.”

She nods, looking amused.

“Your help is appreciated, Mr Coulson.”

“Professor Coulson.”

She looks embarrassed by her mistake. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to- _Professor_ Coulson.” She looks down and Phil didn’t know superheroes could get shy. She recovers quickly, though, and once again she looks at him as if Phil were the strange one. “What do you get out of this? Other than…” she gestures between them. “A close encounter with an Inhuman.”

He smiles at her. 

“I’ve met Inhumans before,” he says. Though, granted, he has never met anyone like her before. Inhuman or not. “I just want to help. I like your style.”

“A good samaritan,” Quake states. Until his ordeal on television Phil is convinced she is not mocking him. “We need more of you these days.”

He knows the kind of change he can effect is limited. He is just finally seeing giants up close.

“No,” he shakes his head. “We need people like you.”

Quake looks out, at the city skyline.

“Am I? _People_? You’re one of the few who seem to think so,” she says, sadly.

And for all his expertise on Quake and the Inhuman problem, Phil doesn’t quite know how to comfort her about this.


	4. Chapter 4

The operation was hush hush but Phil’s contact at the CIA told him that Quake had survived the ambush. May’s bosses suspect someone tipped her off, but they don’t have any concrete proof.

“I owe you one,” he tells her.

He hears May snort at the other side of the line.

“More like Quake owes me one.”

Things stay quiet for a couple of months on the Quake front. He receives more invitations - to talk shows, to symposiums on the Inhuman problem, the police thinking he’ll say yes to them where he said no to the ATCU. He refuses all of them. It feels wrong to talk about Quake as if she were an specimen to study, once he’s met her. Like he’s betraying her trust.

Even in his column he’s hesitant to sound too familiar, paranoid that someone might find the connection and that could put her in danger. The idea of writing a book on Inhumans is shelved for the moment as well.

Quake seems to have taken a break, as well. She’s still out there, but her operations seem smaller scale these days. Nothing Phil has to worry over. Wait, is he actually worried about her? Most likely he will never see her again.

Then one day he’s at his flat and his burner rings, just in time for him to remember he had thrown his burner away after using it that one time.

He follows the sound and finds a cell phone in a pink casing on his desk, by the window. The window is closed from the inside. Just how good is she, anyway? 

He picks up.

“How did you know pink is my color?” he says.

“Just a feeling,” Quake replies.

“You broke into my apartment.”

“Nah, just a bit,” she says. “I’ll send you the address.”

When he hangs up he thinks her voice sounds familiar somehow. Within seconds he receives the address and wonders why Quake doesn’t have anything better to do on a Saturday night than meet with him.

 

+

 

“Another rooftop?”

“It’s a classic for a reason.” She gestures for him to come closer and offers him a bag of Mexican takeout. “My way of saying thanks for last time.”

“Mmm,” he picks it up. He loves cheap takeout. Maybe he has that in common with Quake.

“I used to come here all the time when I was a kid,” she says, looking out. There’s not much of a skyline from here.

Phil takes a moment to process this new information.

“You grew up in St Agnes,” he realizes, his brain re-arranging everything he knew about Quake until now. She’s Hell’s Kitchen born and bred then.

She nods, then raises an eyebrow at him. 

“Just like your profile of me said,” Quake reminds him. “Didn’t it? An orphan, abuse victim, probably dropped out of school and had a warrant under a fake name somewhere.” She lets out an ugly chuckle. “You were so spot on. It’s kind of creepy.”

He’s speechless. In all his years consulting for the authorities he hadn’t stopped to think how intrusive his profiling was. Because it was normally the profile of some criminal, a menace to be stopped. To do that to someone like this woman in front of him was… kind of unforgivable.

He’ll ask for forgiveness anyway.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t-”

“You also called me a superhero,” Quake says, her voice completely changed. A bit anxious, like she needs him to confirm he still believes that.

“You are.”

“You were the first person to call me that,” she tells him, sounding both in awe and grateful.

“Of course you’re a superhero,” Phil insists, because it’s obvious. “Look at how many people you’ve saved.”

She looks out into the night. “Not enough.”

He can’t help but smile.

“That’s the most superhero thing anyone has ever said.”

Quake cracks a little chuckle.

“It sounded a bit comicbook, didn’t it?”

He nods.

She goes back to concentrating on the food, their tiny moment of connection passed.

But it’s nice. A nice night. They don’t have to talk. He is still feeling a bit small around her, but in a good way, and in a way he doesn’t think will ever quite fade away entirely, no matter how many times they meet.

Then the woman becomes quieter in a different way, after she finishes her food, like she readying herself to talk.

“I don’t mind that you write about my exploits,” she tells him. “At least you try to tell the truth, not… scare people with bedtime stories about those awful Inhumans.”

He leans his back against the early 20th century stone of the ledge, his back to the city, looking at the superheroine in front of him, remembering how the closest his father got to the heroes he idolized was a collection of Captain America trading cards.

“You think I can help?” he asks.

She tilts her head, like she is still figuring him out. Maybe she should have been a profiler. And being on this side of it, it’s not so bad right now. Feeling like Quake of all people is curious about it. No one has ever been curious about him in his life.

“I’m not exactly a team player, Phil,” she says. “But I was thinking we could meet from time to time. I’d give you a scoop.”

That sounds like the kind of proposition that definitely comes from a comicbook. Well, there’s no denying he always wanted to be like Lois Lane.

“Really?”

“I’m tired of people twisting what I do,” she explains. “I need someone to tell my side of the story.”

“Insider’s information on Quake? My boss will love that. I might even get syndication for my column.”

She narrows her eyes at his joke.

“Are you sure? Meeting me… it’ll be a risk.”

Coulson nods, slowly. So she’ll know he understands the dangers.

Then her face lights up. Phil had never seen that expression before, for all the months researching her activities and compiling material. Not a face that was ever caught on camera.

She seems excessively happy with their agreement. Phil wonders if she is lonely, if she just wants someone to talk to.

She wraps her fingers around his shoulder, squeezing.

“Next time you buy the food.”


	5. Chapter 5

They fall into a pattern.

It involves a lot of junk food.

They eat ice cream on the hottest night of the New York summer, when everyone is out on the street or sitting on the steps to their brownstones and Quake can easily blend in. Phil wishes he could call her by any other name than her codename, but he doesn’t feel like he has the right to ask. She must have been someone, though, in a previous life.

“You were not that far off,” she tells him one night, very summery as well, hot dogs uptown.

“About what?”

“The hacker stuff,” she says. “Specifically, the Rising Tide stuff. I was with them for a while, before… before the whole freak earthquake powers things.”

His mind fired up going through the profiles of known members of that organization, looking for a name that fits her.

“You’re trying to figure out who I am, aren’t you?” she catches him.

He swallows his food and smiles. “A bit.”

She chuckles.

Phil never forgets the world-ending power running through her body like static, he can feel it when they sit close together on the fire escape of some boarded up building. He is not afraid of it, but he can never overcome his fascination.

They both like milkshakes, he finds out (“Who doesn’t like milkshakes?” he argues). In fact they like most of the same stuff as the other. They find it easy to match, to finds things to do, or rather things to eat, while Quake tells him about her exploits, while Phil takes notes for tomorrow’s column.

“My boss is going to think I’m making this stuff up,” Phil says, shaking his head as Quake tries to explain exactly how her powers work; not the scientific version he’s already heard in the theories of the ATCU’s lab rats. Rather, she is telling him _how it feels_.

She grabs his phone and slips one arm around Phil’s shoulder (he freezes, she’s always avoided anything other than casual contact, and he’s not very touchy either) and takes a picture of the both of them.

“Selfie with Quake,” she jokes. “That’ll convince your boss?”

Phil widens his eyes, suddenly struck by the consequences of anyone seeing that picture.

“That’s dangerous,” he says, in a small, shaky voice. It’s weird to worry so much about another human being (well, sort of human, anyway), after so many years on his own.

“Okay, sorry, just a joke,” she says, showing Phil how she deletes the picture. He catches just a glimpse of it, the strange image of himself and this wondrous stranger looking like any two friends hanging out on a Saturday night.

 

Sometimes she would call him up after an “incident” to explain what had happened so Phil can write about it in the next edition. Those time he comes face to face with the grim reality of being Quake: the paranoia, yes, but also the bruises and the scratches, the “it’s-nothing” cuts that Phil thinks resemble bullet wounds. Once he has to to help her pop her shoulder back into place and he guesses that means they’re friends now, but he guesses that also means she has literally no one else in her life, and that saddens him.

Most times it’s not that dramatic, though.

 

She is only interested in clearing up misconceptions about Inhumans, not in bragging. It’s not after every “mission” that she calls. He wishes she would have granted him an exclusive interview after that time she saved the neighborhood from a giant space spider.

 

He figures out how she has done it, all this time, going unnoticed. She doesn’t hide to begin with. The way she walks alongside Phil, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, to neighborhood cafes or orders their food at some hole in the wall, the way she smiles at strangers, like she has no fear of discovery (Phil knows she does). The perfect disguise. Phil tried to copy it, as to not put her in danger, he tried to imagine himself as normal, walking the streets with a pretty young woman by his side, but he couldn’t do that.

“Where do you live?” he asks once, his reporter’s pad open like an excuse to know more about her.

“That’s classified,” she says, her tone almost flirty.

“You’d have to move,” Phil ponders, unable to resist the puzzle. “You wouldn’t risk putting people in danger, so you couldn’t stay in any one site, forging stable relationships.”

She makes a weird face at that and Phil fears having gotten too personal.

“Sorry,” he says.

They stay in silence a moment then:

“A van,” Quake says.

“What?”

“I live in a van,” she repeats. “That’s why I’m able to move around freely.”

“A van? It’s…” he cracks a smile, thinking of all that power trapped in a tiny vehicle, he thinks about Quake looking for free wifi spots, keeping very few possessions, mementos, a few books or dvds, it explains why she repeats wardrobe so often. “Original.”

She snorts.

“Original, that’s diplomatic. Living in a van, not very… superhero-like, uh?”

“It seems like it’s worked so far,” Phil says. He would have never caught her - if she hadn’t let herself be caught.

 

The problem with a pattern is just that: you can learn to read it. People were bound to catch up, and they did.

This kind of “exclusive access” (Phil gets a hot feeling behind his ears at those words, like a high schooler who writers for a music fanzine getting to interview Patti Smith) couldn’t go unnoticed and while Phil doesn’t mind dodging General Talbot’s calls but once people start showing up at the paper to demand to know Phil’s sources he realizes there are other concerns here.

“I think they are following me,” he tells Daisy one night.

He shook their tail (a trick he learned from years of consulting with government organizations) but no doubt they’ll try again.

He can see in Daisy’s face that she understands what that means, she lowers her fish taco (they are eating the same takeout they did that first night, months ago), as if suddenly she has lost all appetite in the knowledge that this is probably the last time they are free to meet like this.

“I wouldn’t want to lead them to you,” he adds.

Daisy nods.

They haven’t been particularly careful - they have been buying food together from food trucks, for heaven’s sake. After a year of Quake eluding all attempts to capture her and now she risks everything for… what? Getting a friend? It’s not worth it. He is not worth it, Phil thinks. The logical, wise thing is to stop seeing each other.

The logical, wise thing...

“Is it true your father wrote the book on Captain America?” she asks, kind of out of the blue.

“He tried,” Phil says, suddenly smiling at the memory of research papers piling on his father’s desk at his home office - that was Phil’s childhood, listening to stories of superheroes, watching him chase paper trails, only to find closed doors when he asked for a comment from the Army.

“Tried?”

“He couldn’t get any official sources, those projects were all classified.”

“He’d be really proud of you now,” Quake says, surprising him with such a thought. “You have direct access to the source here. How cool is that?”

“Pretty cool,” he admits. “But I don’t think it’s your powers what my father would like about you.”

Daisy beams at that, like she’s been caught by surprised by the sentiment. Phil guesses it’s not a bad note to end their encounters forever (or at least for now, forever for now, until Quake stops being public enemy number one for some) and Daisy thinks so too, giving him a little grateful nod once she recovers, so they finish the rest of their dinner in silence.

 

+

 

Two weeks after that last dinner with Quake the ATCU breaks into his apartment.

He can tell what’s happened before getting there, his neighbors peeking from behind half-open doors on his floor.

It’s funny how the agents don’t even look embarrassed when Phil catches them, coming back at midnight from half-sleeping on his desk in the paper.

General Talbot standing in the middle of the kitchen as his men go through the drawers, somehow believing than after years of dealing with intelligence agencies as an ally Phil is stupid enough to keep confidential information about Quake in his house. Her medical file is safe, like he promised Claire. He keeps his notes on his person all the time. (For a moment he thinks back on that selfie Quake took with him and he is relieved all over again that she deleted it).

The ATCU is not going to find anything in here.

Phil closes the door behind him and leaves the keys on the kitchen counter, kicking himself mentally because he brought them here.

“You’ve woken up the whole neighborhood, General” he argues.

The General frowns, looking offended.

“We’re pursuing a criminal and you’re worried people might not get their beauty sleep.”

He blinks at Talbot. He can be really dense sometimes.

“No, I’m worried that this operation of yours will be up on Twitter and Instagram in five minutes.”

“And…?”

“People will know you consider me a way to find Quake, officially,” Phil explains.

Talbot looks around, gesturing at his agents, who are still dedicated to turning the flat upside down.

“ _You are_ a way to find Quake.”

Phil groans. But not out loud. A silent existential groan.

He knows it would be useless - and telling - trying to get the head of the ATCU to care about a fugitive’s safety, a criminal’s well-being. He’ll try something else.

He points at the intrusive team as well.

“Not everybody is going to be as _delicate_ as you are, General,” he says. “I’m a civilian and you’re putting me in danger.”

Talbot lets out a low chuckle at that.

“You’re hardly a civilian, Mr Coulson.”

Phil doesn’t really have a reply.

Talbot’s right.

When it comes to Quake he stopped being a civilian a long time ago.


End file.
